Deadly Nightshade
by PRlNCE
Summary: Beneath a soft exterior of delicate serenity was an active flame, one rather unwise to fuel without bracing for the consequences. At times, prince Reyson met the expected requirements of these ethereal traits. But for the most part, these parts of him were entirely overlooked, and with good reason. Though at times, they would get him into circumstances he didn't wish for.
1. Escape

Beautiful as they may be, some flowers are much more than they appear to be. It is widely known how a single rose can send a miniature cascade of blood trickling down your finger, should you not approach it with caution. Despite its thorns being a part of its outward appearance, the rose is highly regarded for its delicate beauty, as are many other types of flowers with far more masked abilites. The belladonna, the oleander. The daphne, angel's trumpet - all poisonous through ingestion and other means. And yet, serenity envelops these beings of nature, leading even the most educated of man to view them as harmless. Of course, there is never any harm in looking. And one touch wouldn't hurt, would it? One simple little touch wouldn't make these exquisite creations counter with bleeding fire.

This appeared to be a common trait among humans. That is, the beorc.

Hidden beneath a soft exterior of delicate serenity was an active flame, one rather unwise to fuel without bracing for the consequences. At times, prince Reyson met the expected requirements of these frail and ethereal traits. In the way he carried himself, in the sound and use of his voice, amongst other things. But for the most part, these parts of him were entirely overlooked, and with good reason. "It's the Hawk King's influence", people would say, and while Reyson thought little of it, he supposed having been in the company of Tibarn and his kind for so long might have shaped him differently than other heron Laguz. But the young prince was a passionate sort by nature. Anyone looking upon him for the first time would likely consider him frail, but no matter his inability to take too rough of a beating, Reyson had his ways to convince you otherwise with his actions. He spoke his mind, sometimes harshly so. He displayed courage, sometimes that of a fool rushing in. And he cursed, much to the dismay of the people around him.

The hawks were accustomed to profanities, if anything - their King, tough and large as a mountain, gave quick insight into the ways of his people. But for them to see this figure of supposed grace and tranquility snap on them using words clearly not for his tongue... it was hilarious, confusing and worrying in equal measure. Reyson could stand as tall as Tibarn by far, locking blazing gazes with a man who could crush him like a bug should there be a will and a reason. But there never was one, nor would there be. The herons were family, and with the tragedy having befallen the Serenes forest, the hawks took it upon themselves to shelter the remaining ones as best they could, lending a strong wing to carry them. Some could say Reyson was taking advantage of this, but it wasn't by any conscious choice. It was the simple matter of speaking one's mind, and not putting up with tedious behaviour or unwanted circumstances.

So what had sent His Highness flying this time? Surely no one had been bothersome enough to offend the man. Or challenge him somehow. King Phoenicis himself stopped in his tracks for a moment to pull someone aside. The way he dragged them by the collar would be viewed as an act of violence among the beorc by sure, but Tibarn's approach was rather casual, if a little irked; the twitching in his hazel wings suggested he was intent to make some haste if he wanted to find their lost bird anytime soon. With an inquisitive glance towards the victim of his pull, Tibarn asked:

"Am I wasting my time here too, or did anyone see where Reyson stormed off to?"

It wasn't his fault. Not really. He couldn't take Reyson's sensitivity into account every time they headed into an argument, and he wasn't about to sugarcoat every little thing either. But he supposed he was still to blame. It wasn't his home that had been burned to the ground, his people framed for a horrible act and then slaughtered as a result. While it didn't help to be constantly reminded, Tibarn understood. It filled him with rage as well. He would speak in truth, strong opinions flaring, but so would Reyson. It wasn't strange for them to clash. Though at times like this, Tibarn ended up forgetting what the argument was about. Fighting with words was a hassle, but it wasn't as if Reyson provided any additional alternatives.

The other Laguz, being of a rather slender build, had been momentarily disoriented by the sudden contact, but responded with haste.

"He didn't pass by here-"

"Got it."

Interrupting before his subject had finished their sentence, Tibarn dropped them to the ground gently enough, patting them once where their collarbones met their chest to flatten out the collar. As he walked off, large thumps indicating his heavy build, he called out a single name.

"Ulki."

It didn't take long before a hawk, who closely resembled his animal form, joined the King's side, matching his pace and eager to serve. Ulki's hearing was unparalleled, and Tibarn never had to wait for long after summoning him.

"I'm heading out. Listen for Reyson's wings, and find me Janaff while you're at it."

Ulki nodded respectively and swiftly vanished from sight. Him and Janaff made an excellent pair, exceptional hearing and sight combined to make it so much easier for Tibarn to find whatever he sought.

Tibarn didn't make it far until the two of them caught up to him, and judging by Ulki's words, Reyson was currently not airborne. This could mean two things. Either there was nothing to worry about, and the young prince had simply found a spot to rest, or something had happened and he was in terrible danger. Concern and exasperation in equal measure filled the cup of Tibarn's mind as he groaned inwardly, narrowing his eyes at the potential crisis.

"Alright, keep closeby. I'll drag him by the feet if I have to."

Able to see the hint of worry in their King's eye, the two young hawks exchanged a glance, preparing themselves for any outcome. Reyson wasn't daft, but his anger prevented him from thinking at times, leading him to danger more often than not. While this could be the harmless result of another tantrum, his sudden leave had to be approached in this manner. Either way, he'd suffer the wrath of King Phoenicis - or, if Tibarn didn't play his cards right... the other way around.

Reyson hadn't kept a location in mind. A stubborn inner refusal prevented him from touching the borders of Kilvas, and he had no home to return to. There was no place for him to think and surround himself with what soothed his spirit - everything just served to upset him further. The only thing that seemed to mend this predicament was whenever he spoke to his sister, Leanne. But he hadn't thought of this prior to flying off. With nowhere to go, and no one to speak to, perched atop a cliff so grey it greatly contrasted his appearance, Reyson could have wept. The old Reyson would have wept. For his comrades, for his sister and brother, for betrayals and trust. But he simply remained, the wind tugging at long, blond hair which never seemed to get entangled.

Of course he knew this had been foolish of him. Reyson was well aware that he shouldn't have stormed off, that he should be a good heron and not stray from the comfortable protection of his defenders. But the thought brought a sickening knot to his stomach, and he involuntarily clenched his jaw. There were times when he wished he was a hawk, or a crow. By strength, at least, as he took great pride in what he was. He wouldn't have to be protected. He could fight back, he could show his resentment through actions rather than words. But Reyson wondered if that would still make a difference. Either way, it would serve as a greater accomplishment than sitting where he was, lamenting over the past and crying like a babe. He would trade talons graceful and pure for ones that could rip an enemy's throat.

But he was a heron. And he was alive. This was proof of his strength.

The waves in the distance served as calming. They pulled the young prince closer until he could feel the breeze tickle his snow white wings, urging him to close his eyes to the ocean music. Before he knew it, his lips separated and a mesmerizing tune slipped out, seemingly stopping time with its delicate ring.

"Imi sanaki kega nonawot, oro kokumoro damete moto wikot, uaeru feto tetiara howimay, odi tiu omami"

The last tone seemed to stretch out to the ends of the horizon, as Reyson's expression softened somewhat from the familiar lyrics. Galdr weren't sung on a whim, but they calmed the prince's mind, and it had proven necessary. They were really all he had when there was nothing to rein him in, and they had also made him realize rather late how far he had gone to avoid company. It would be best to return quickly, lest the others worry for too long. Though sometimes Reyson admitted it was good to have them worry.

Reyson turned to extend his wings for the incoming wind, but inhaled sharply. For a moment he stared blankly, unable to comprehend the searing feeling spreading in his right wing, causing his feet to shuffle. But then his gaze flicked to the side, meeting with the sharpened head of an arrow just before feeling himself getting reeled in like a that of a fish on a hook.

"Didn't I say not the wings, you daft piece of horse dung? Where d'you think the value is on these things?"

Reyson was given little time before being violently thrust onto a wooden surface, nearly biting his tongue in the process. Upon realizing that he had just been harpooned like a whale, Reyson attempted to find his assailants with kicks and biting, but it looked more like flailing due to the arrow still being attached to his wounded wing. His left started flapping as if struck by a frenzy, desperately trying to get loose and give these people hell. But the pain nearly numbed Reyson's entire body, and the shame only made it worse. A throbbing fear crept close, but not enough to make him cower. Anytime someone came within short distance, Reyson would attempt to harm them in any way possible.

It was futile, in the end. The deck of the ship made the heron unable to keep steady and the humans outnumbered him greatly. He recalled little else before drifting off to black.


	2. Courage

Mesmerizing scents enveloped the air, as if materialized and visible to the naked eye, blissfully dancing and urging everyone to join. The sky carried the colour of mirth, an encouragement for every glance. And the grass, it was soft and warm, nature's pillow offering the grandest of quality to whomever decided to lay their head upon it. Should one listen, a fresh breeze of musical tones graced the presence of every creature nearby. A sanctuary of the soul. A home to peace.

It was fake.

Reyson's eyes darted open for the second time since touching upon the deck of the pirate ship, immediately searching his surroundings and coming to the conclusion that this was not the same place in which he had last awoken. He recalled having been transported, the men carrying his wounded body assuming he was still unconscious from the pain. He had then seen his moment to catch them by surprise, wriggling out of their grip much like whatever aquatic creature they were treating him as. The resistance had been met with further violence, hands grabbing at his hair and pressing his ivory face down against the floor, forcing the heron to submit. Their voices had spoken in exasperation, but there was also a hint of amusement as they considered how "feisty" their specimen was behaving. It would seem as if they could have sworn they heard a growl gurgling from the White Prince's throat.

But now, Reyson was still, and there was no one in sight. Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness somewhat, he assessed that he was in a storage compartment of some sort. He couldn't be certain, as he wasn't one to become involved in the matters of beorc. His wings appeared to be bound, making Reyson arch a brow - it served as little point seeing as his right wing was injured. Perhaps they presumed he would be able to escape even in such a state. At the very least, they had patched it up to what looked to be the best of their ability. It was good to have the bleeding reduced as well as the damage, but Reyson was anything but grateful.

Thinking about the situation and how he had put himself in it served only to enrage the heron further, so action would be necessary, lest he remain in this cesspool of human filth until every single one of his feathers met the wooden floor. It was a rather worrying position he had been placed in, as Reyson knew not for how long he had been out, nor where this ship was heading. It didn't matter what they wanted with him, each possibility carried a most awful tune. The thought urged Reyson to his first attempt of movement, neglecting the pain in his wing and the rest of his body to crawl forward. No other limbs were bound, for whatever reason, and so he was able to push himself up on his knees, holding onto a crate for support each time a larger wave hit. He only came to a complete stop once he could feel a wall in front of him, using it to pull himself to standing, his feet shaking slightly but managing to hold his weight with a bit of willpower.

Eternity and beyond seemed to pass as Reyson searched for a door, reaching and fumbling all the while trying to stay on his feet. The way the ship was swaying and creaking sent a crippling feeling of nausea to his stomach, but he gritted his teeth through the ordeal and exhaled into a sigh of impatient relief when he found a handle.

It turned on its own.

Reyson's back was painfully pressed against the wall as he edged back, holding his breath just in time for the door to fly up, sufficiently hiding him from sight where he stood. Two men entered, one heading straight forward towards the very spot their captured heron had escaped from, and the other remaining by the door. Naturally, it didn't take long for the first to notice that Reyson had vanished, but it only gave the man himself a few seconds to move. Relying on whatever strength his already feeble body could conjure up, Reyson pushed towards the door with all of his weight, causing it to ram into the face of the man standing guard, causing him to groan loudly and stumble to the side. Pulling the handle towards him again, Reyson whipped around the door and hurried outside, finding the clear night skies greeting him above. The first man to have entered the room was in quick pursuit, leaving Reyson with little time to appreciate the refreshing breath of the ocean. His initial instinct was to leap over the edge and spread his wings, but there was no way he would be able to, bound or not. But there was nowhere to run on a ship, and there were now others closing in. Reyson's chest started thumping dangerously, sweat trickled down his brow as his thoughts raced madly in order to counter this predicament.

One of the pirates cast himself forward, succeeding in grabbing the heron's white-clad arm. This was met with a burning anger from Reyson's side, emerald green eyes blazing up and lines of fury deepening by the bridge of his nose. Instead of becoming reeled in by the putrid-smelling, miscreant human, Reyson used the grasp on his arm to his advantage, pulling the man towards him.

An image of past experience flashed past his consciousness then, of a man of incredible build sending someone to the ground with his forehead alone. This fueled Reyson's decision for a split second, as he pulled his head back, violently rushing it to meet with the other's. Had it been Tibarn, it would most certainly had been a most fierce headbutt, but with Reyson delivering the blow and a rather round man being on the receiving end, it didn't turn out as fatal as the young prince would have wanted. It did, however, force the pirate back a few steps, his hands darting up to his face to assess the damage.

There was really no time to think anymore. What use did he have for thinking, when actions were so desperately required?

Reyson swiftly ducked away from the next contact, making his way towards the railing, never stopping once as he pushed himself over the edge and fell to the waters below.

In hindsight... had it been better to sit by and let these vermin have their way? Sell him to a slaver, a collector, or whatever they had planned for him? No. Reyson refused, would always refuse, a human's blood-stained hand on his person.

The amount of concern accumulated through this seemingly futile process was staggering.

Tibarn had kept the ugly possibilities in mind, yes, but he had expected to find Reyson unharmed before anything would have befallen him. Now, it seemed an impossible notion. Janaff saw nothing. Ulki heard nothing. For the two of them to remain empty-handed for this long, something dreadful must have happened, and Tibarn would have blamed himself for letting the prince out of his sight, had his vision not been clouded by the assumption that the beorc were to blame. He didn't know who, but someone would pay, and they would pay in full should there be even one feather plucked from Reyson's wings.

"Feather."

The voice of Ulki snapped King Phoenicis back to their task. Casting his gaze towards his faithful servant, it trailed off to where he was pointing, noting a single white feather dancing softly in the ocean breeze. Before it had the chance to travel further, Tibarn caught it in his bandaged right hand, the pure hue a contrast to his sun-kissed skin.

It could have blown from anywhere. But at the very least, this meant Reyson had been nearby. But before Tibarn was given any chance to further decipher the meaning of this feather, Janaff's voice was also heard, less of a statement ringing from his tone and more dread.

"Blood!"

Something was ignited in Tibarn's sharp eyes, and he joined the young hawk on the cliff to take a look. Clenching and unclenching his fists, the heron's feather still attached to his palm, the Hawk King regarded the drops of red with a silent anger. Anyone witnessing it would consider it akin to a volcano about to erupt and destroy everything in its path.

"We're heading to sea."


	3. Safety

It burned.

This breeze was familiar. Although his wings would not move, he was still vacantly watching the world pass by beneath him, as if carried by the wind itself no matter his ability or lack thereof to navigate it. Searing pain blazed through his system along with a weighty feeling of dread and nausea, hampered breathing making his head spin as he struggled for oxygen. Had this happened before, or was it the memory of someone else, relived through a hallucinating mind? It mattered not. There was security in this breeze. What remained was simply the matter of allowing himself to be at ease in these arms, trusting in them to shield him from the discomfort boiling in his chest.

Reyson steadily grew more conscious of his surroundings, and the tension in his body almost completely dissipated upon presuming that the hawks had come for him. The faint sound of wings working strongly to remain airborne filled the skies and it was further amplified the more awareness was returned to Reyson's senses. Sharp, green eyes finally fluttered open, and at that moment the young prince could have regurgitated his entire stomach. The sudden vertigo had knocked him straight in his gut, leaving him to battle his very insides for dominance. As he snapped his eyes shut and pressed a hand towards his mouth, the other digging nails into warm cloth, Reyson did his utmost to prevent an eruption from within. Much to his relief, the waves of inner rejection pulled back, leaving only a light queasiness still persisting. A quivering sigh escaped Reyson's lips then and he dared open his eyes again, hoping that this feeling wouldn't come rushing back. That was when he caught sight of what caused the alarm to bolt back.

Those wings were black.

As being hurled over a shoulder would make it rather taxing to fly, Reyson was being held in a way resembling the marital style, his face pressed towards a foul-smelling chest and a pair of hands tightly grabbing his arm as well as the back of his knees to hold up his legs - a stigma on the heron's pride, a thing he was fairly certain was unheard of among the crows. The immediate reaction following his realization bordered on the decision to struggle out of the aevial man's grip, but his significantly seeped energy opened the doors for his thoughts to inform him of the situation he'd be putting himself in should he do so. Below was the very same ocean, waves swaying and rocking against each other, an alluring but absolutely terrifying sight. But the altitude in which Reyson observed this far surpassed that of the pirate ship. Falling from this height would likely send him to his demise, and he was sure that the crows were aware of this, along with the fact that he wouldn't be able to inflict much harm unto them. A stray thought crossed his mind then for a second, wondering just how little he must have weighed for this blister of a man to hold him and fly simultaneously.

If it wasn't one thing, it was the other.

Hurling himself off a ship fraught with pirates, only to find himself in the company of more pirates, was a matter so ridiculous, it almost called for laughter. But Reyson wasn't laughing, and although he harboured less disgust for the raven scum than what the humans brought out in him, he wasn't planning on sitting idly as their pockets filled with the remainder of his life in coin form. Regrettably, however, there was nothing he could do at the moment but begrudgingly regret his previous actions leading him to this soaked and miserable state. And naturally, the group of four unruly pirate crows had noted the prince's rise to consciousness, ready to backpedal to his previous condition should the need arise. But Reyson did not resist, at the very least not in a physical manner. Anyone locking gazes with him would catch the flaring objection with ease.

"Told you getting him with your talons was a better idea. He almost hurled on you", one of the pirates established before Reyson could open his mouth to protest.

This man appeared to be the oldest in the group, Reyson surmised. Either that, or he had far outgrown his fellows, for he was rather impressive in build. Not quite in the league with Tibarn, but large nonetheless. Despite this, he didn't appear to be leading this group of cawing fiends, as he traveled the farthest behind the others. His most notable feature, however, was not that of his physique, but the shaved side of his head, strands red as wine covering the other in an asymmetrical fashion. Reyson only recalled having seen somewhat slim crows before, and never anyone with such extravagant hairstyle choices.

"Will you shut up about that? It's tiring to transform for every little thing, y'know. What if they'd hurt him even more? What then?"

The crow taking to words this time wasn't the one carrying Reyson, but one adjacent to him. He looked young, most likely the youngest out of the four, and his appearance spoke of a wild but naïve spirit. Wearing a patched-up tunic of several mismatched colours, a leather belt joined with a cloth and tattered pantaloons, he was also the dirtiest, as if even washing one's face was beyond him. His hair was a very common shade of brown, another piece of cloth wrapped around his forehead to prevent it from getting in his eyes. Even his flying seemed irregular, and Reyson guessed he was a show-off of little merit in the air.

A chuckle, almost condescending in nature, pierced through another chance to speak as another crow made himself known.

"Way to stand up for your brother, kid."

This man reminded Reyson of Naesala in many aspects. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, as they were nothing alike outwardly. Decorated from top to toe, this crow was more embellished than Reyson would have expected of a scoundrel this low. But those impressive-looking boots and tightly-fit, smooth jacket might as well have been owned by someone else quite recently, and so Reyson placed little value in the sight. He was filthy, like the people he associated with. Hair of dark orchid graced his features in a way that made him stand out almost moreso than his attire, and he found many occasions to run his scavenger hand through it.

The one holding Reyson in his grasp had yet to speak, a man wearing a short-sleeved, open silver jacket and a white cloth around his neck, his hair as black as his wings and tied in a very small ponytail at the back of his head. The captive heron saw no reason as to why he should sit by and listen, so the voice trampling on the silence this time was free of raspy undertones and had the sense of music embedded within.

"Making deals with humans?" Reyson spat, the last word spoken soiled with contempt. "I see your kind is as lacking in the dignity department as ever, but even I expected more."

"Shut it!" the young one exclaimed. "Don't talk like you know us!"

"Nell, you're embarrassing yourself", said the big one, his voice tired as if this was something they were all used to.

The crow with the boots neared, close enough for Reyson to touch him, a conceited smile spreading across his pale exterior.

"Why don't you just sit tight and we'll have you delivered to whoever wants to touch you the most", he mocked. Reyson knew it as a farce from the sound of it, but the bile still rose in his throat a the mention, a disgusted wrinkle settling by his nose sending the amused crow into laughter.

"Whomever's got the most money, right?"

"Yeah, Nell. Whomever's got the most money", the fancy one echoed, treating the youngster like a half-wit with his tone alone.

This set Reyson off more than he was able to resist, and reflexes demanded his hands shoot forward, pushing at his captor.

"Disgusting", he hissed. "Toxic scum! Unhand me!"

His attempt was cut short as the victim of his inefficient undertaking finally spoke.

"Don't struggle."

Was that concern in his voice?

Suddenly the monotony in their movements ceased, and the leader crow descended slowly, so as not to incite the rage of Reyson's innards. He lowered the heron down onto a sufficiently shaped cliff, suggesting they were nearing land. Reyson fought back very little at first, the gentle motion of the silent crow putting him off guard as his head was gingerly placed onto the cold surface with the help of the other's hand. Once the bizarre moment had passed, the bewildered prince sought to pull himself back up, but a shuddersome realization that he was barely able to move his limbs kept him where he was. Only now did he notice the fact that his wings were no longer bound. Lying on his back would have been quite the strain, should the rope have forced them together still.

Whilst confusion rummaged in his mind, Reyson's features didn't soften once, but the inquisitive look in his eyes told of curiosity. Had this been a human, there would be no room for trust and no will to listen. There was really no way to actually "trust" a crow pirate - or their kind altogether, honestly - but this unexpected respect in this man of few words' actions had made him deserving of the prince's ear. For now.

"You're wounded", the crow said. "And sick. Be still."

Reyson glanced towards the others for a moment. They didn't seem to be all that concerned with their friend's behaviour, save for the one called Nell who kept wanting to head over to his side. Judging by their earlier exchange of words, these two must be brothers. For now, they kept their distance, resting up for the next stretch. Directing his view back to that of the silent one, Reyson's gaze hardened, remembering what kind of fiend he was speaking to.

"If being sick lowers your profit, then I will gladly be sick", the heron scoffed.

"I don't see how dying is going to benefit you either", said the crow. "As for profit..."

"Vhisarel! Vhis, come on!" shouted Nell. "The wind's getting colder!"

So Vhisarel was his name. For simplicity's sake, the others referred to him as Vhis, but even still it was a fancy name for someone of his low standing.

Reyson arched a brow, expecting him to continue speaking, his eyes challenging the other everytime he was given a chance. But Vhis said nothing. Instead, he tucked his hand beneath Reyson's head once more, lifting it up before assuming the same manner of carrying as before.

"Can't be helped, huh?" the crow with the boots yelled from the other side of the cliff. "He'll have to rest in his new home."

"Dargeus", their leader suddenly growled, resulting in utter silence.

With a demanding glare, Vhis took a step towards the crow named Dargeus, keeping the heron close as if protecting him from his own people.

"He is not to be touched, or seen, by the humans. I thought I was pretty clear."

"Yeah, I still think that's pretty stupid. You do know this can set us up for life, my friend. You've had no problem raiding and killing for sweet, sweet gold - what's stopping you now? Sudden visit from the ol' conscience?"

"Those are two entirely different things", Vhis bellowed, the sound causing Reyson to involuntarily tense up. "They are humans. He is a heron."

Stepping away from his well-clad comrade, Vhis tightened his hold on their prize, narrowing his eyes with a sense of determination and focus unheard of among the cravens Reyson thought he had all figured out.

"And we were supposed to protect them", rang a somber tone just as the wind picked up and erased it from existence, making it barely audible.

But Reyson heard.


End file.
